


After Hours

by BubblegumCannibal



Series: Commissions and Gifts [7]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, OC/Canon, Porn With Plot, casual nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:56:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCannibal/pseuds/BubblegumCannibal
Summary: The Iron Lord and his Vanguard just need some time.





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

> a simple commission.
> 
> \--  
> i can't end shit. y'all gotta forgive me. lmao challenge two of "can you write something sensual and not use penis/dick"?

The Tower is alive when he returns. From the crack of dawn to late within the evening, she sees him standing before that flaming crest, greeting Guardians with strict kindness and harsh words. It’s like this every Iron Banner. Guardian’s are reprimanded with a lesson, but he prides them with a gentle smile and always tells them how proud he is of their progression.

“Keep that fire well lit in your heart and you too will eventually be a Wolf.”

Others laugh and many gaze up at him with stars in their eyes as if they idolize him. But none as much as she does. Hearing his voice from the vaults makes her heart flutter. Mindlessly, does she close her eyes to listen to the echoing rasp of his voice. The way it grates into a tired hum as he speaks to another Guardian, whom she can hear trotting off with the sound of their weapons and new loot clanking together.

He ought to be shutting down for the night soon. She can hear Shaxx finally winding down from crucible beside her, but that usually doesn’t mean a thing. He’ll take a small break then come back wound right back up and yelling at the monitors once again… Unlike Saladin. Once he’s done, he’s done. The fires on the shield are extinguished and he’s assisting with the last of his trickling in Guardians knowing well they’ve done their deed and proved him proud to have taught them _something_ out there in the arenas.

“Selene,” His voice, deep and exhausted, at her ear causes the warlock to jump, “let’s go.”

At his side, she stands at peace. No amount of destruction within Iron Banner or Crucible could amount to something like this… She had drifted again, blindly listening to his conversation with another Guardian that she had been on auto pilot, following where he had gone and disappearing into the same corridors with him until there was silence again. They had long entered their empty flat, one barely used anymore since she left for Felwinter’s Peak at his side, but it was nice to be home for once.

“Things have gotten a bit slow, aside from the rookies trying out Banner for the first time,” he speaks up again, “Vets and the like have been disappearing for Gambit?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, love.”

Saladin gives a questioning frown, his lips pursing together and brows turning downward, “You sure? Crucible is one thing, but throwing enemies into the bunch with some sketchy machine that produces ascendant monsters? I’m sorry, but what in God’s name have I missed?”

“Shenanigans,” Selene states. “ _Shenanigans._ Plus, Zavala is the only one who doesn’t know about it, so shh.”

“How? I swear to you I could hear that loud, braggadocios miscreant over Shaxx.”

“Oh, you can. Right now… He’s standing in the hall with Seven.”

“What?”

“I told you not to worry about it.”

Now free of his armor, all of it messily placed on the floor, a few pieces at the counter with strewn about take-out boxes and last night’s paperwork, messily stacked—if it could be noted as “stacked.” But, in all its tiny messes, it felt like a home away from home… especially with the man hunched over beside her. She joins him, boots tucked under the counter and armor pieces lined up beside his.

Silently she slides a hand over his back, the other freeing her tiny Ghost to hover away with his, “Come with me.”

Robes cast across the sofa and her hair free from its golden clip, her slender fingers unzipped the back of her body suit to slide her arms free. Selene spins, facing the older Iron Lord with a beckoning grin. As she disappeared into the dark room, he could see her silver eyes glowing, the dim shimmer of her blue skin almost ghostly in the low light. She’s like a ghost, celestial and otherworldly.

“Come to me,” she whispers, arms open, “It’s late. _Come to me._ ”

No time is wasted, never is with them. Within moments the rest of her underclothes have been thrown to the floor and he’s haphazardly shrugged off half of his. He’s scooped her up into his grasp limply now, the tips of her toes skimming the floor as she staggers into the room with him with a chuckle. It’s been weeks since he’s seen his wife. Mornings were empty. Nights quieter than any graveyard he had ever been in… but with her, there was life—happiness and sound. No more of the mundane huff and puff of Shiro complaining off in the distance.

Here, he was at ease under her touch, feeling her body heat overtake him as he bites at the nape of her neck. Saladin needs no moment to push them both into things. No pre-game, little foreplay… Just **her.** He simply needs _her._ And he takes her without a second care of ever pulling panties off, instead simply shoving the fabric out of his way.

Life is tedious as a Guardian, more so as an Iron Lord. For days on end you’re confronted with the face of the vicious ready to devour their Light and it wears on them more than it should. The monsters they face are merely carnivorous aliens angry of what parts of space got something they didn’t. That’s how every story goes, doesn’t it? But after a while, Guardians slow their pace and place their lives and love into someone else—for the sake of their minds, really. It’s safer that way. Safer to pour your soul into someone else… Someone who _cared._

That’s who Selene was to Saladin—the one who cared. She was the one who listened… the one who greeted him every visit with an excited smile and that alien incandescent glow that made her radiate with every look. But she won him. Not in the way of a wink and a charm, but through combat as she left Guardians weak and defeated in her wake. Though the last time the Banner hosted a deathmatch, but the first time he felt something throbbing in his chest for someone he thought was too far from his grasp.

And yet here she is, legs wrapped around his waist, arms thrown around his neck, and her back pressed firmly against the wall. Each thrust upward drew a moan from her that would echo within the room and bring a smile to his brown lips. It’s what he needed to hear—those sweet calls right up against his ear. He can feel her hips respond to him, the little grind she gives in return to take in more of him as if it almost wasn’t enough. However, he pulls from the wall, his hands tightly grabbing the cheeks of her backside to carefully spin to the bed behind him.

It’s not long before she demands the titan back to her, pulling him back down to her with a ravenous kiss, her moans muffled against his mouth. Her body arches and toes curl, she can feel her body shuddering with every grind of his thrusts and the bite of his teeth into her neck.

Was the night to end like this? Eventually. But there’s no malice towards its conclusion, instead there is needy pleas from her—demands for him to take her, _ravage_ her… as if they were to split once again. But not this time. Even with him digging deeper with each thrust, teetering on his own drunken intimacy… but he can’t let her go. He can’t let it end so soon…

And even with a choked back moan, he holds nothing back within harsh, angry thrusts. If nights come where he’s without her once again, he’d at least be fine with remembering this one little moment.


End file.
